Thursday, September 3, 2009

Black Fedora

"It was early... at least, too early to be drinking the shots of Scotch I was lining up like birds on a wire, and I could still taste the blood in my mouth from the night before. Even the whisky wouldn't wash that metallic taste off. She breezed into my office smelling like French perfume and unwashed secrets, one lock of hair laying across her face like crumpled sheets after a long night with no sleep. Lord knows I know those nights all too well. She seemed like just another dame on the wrong side of love, looking for answers she wouldn't want to hear, and I could tell that she was going to mean trouble. I should have thrown her out, but something about her stopped me. Something I couldn't place. An abrasive sweetness that won't quit. She was like a lemon drop. "I'm out of places to run." she said, taking a long cool drag from her cigarette, and wiping away the last signs of a tear. "And you're too hard up to refuse work... especially after that little ...incident.". I was in bad shape, and she had done her homework. But what was so bad that had her crawling to me?"

This is the beginning of a Noir style detective story I have just started working on. I'm thinking of calling it The Black Fedora, but I am also thinking that that's a retarded name. I may post segments of the story from time to time, just to get opinions, advice, etc... so let me know what you think. I plan to do some research by watching some film noir in the near future. I am also looking at buying a second typewriter (with ribbons that are easier to find, and replace), as well as a fedora of my own, and a metal trash bin to throw discarded papers into.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

The pipes, the pipes are calling.

So I've been reading this book of Irish fairy-tales. I have learned that the term "Mermaid" comes from the Irish sailors who believed that "Merrows" (both maids and men) lived in the ocean near Ireland. "Merrow", and thereby "Mer" being based on the Gaelic word, "Muir", which means "Sea". Mermaid = Sea maid. Anyway... while reading this book, I've been reading it out loud to myself, with an Irish accent, just to make it more fun. As a result, I find myself now thinking with an Irish accent, and occasionally speaking with one when I don't mean to. I only hope that it becomes permanent, because Irish accents are awesome.

Oh yeah, also, it seems that Merpeople weren't just people on top and fish on the bottom, they also had webbed hands and feet. Yeah, feet... in addition to giant fish tails. Like people wearing scaly pants, with a giant tail instead of a butt.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Finally, my quest is ended.

I have just read the Odyssey, and it will stay long in my heart, for it reflects like sunlight on the water the deep thought within my soul that all my life upon this twisted and cursed earth has been a tiresome and anguished wandering through violent and harrowing trials, and will be until the God who rules the thunder, who shakes the very earth is His grasp, finds that my troubles should end, and sees fit in His wisdom and mercy to ferry me back to my beloved home. It likewise aligns with the desire in my heart to stand with my Lord at the final battle, and serve His will, for His glory, and His kingdom.

Up next in the queue: A Treasury of Irish Myth, Legend, and Folklore by W.B. Yeats and Lady Gregory

Somebody please pour me a glass of motivation.

Not having work is bad for me. Plain and simple. While I may not always enjoy working, I'm deciding that having a steady job is way better than having nothing to do. My reasons being these:

While I do have enough money to have held me over for this past week without anything to do, knowing that I am earning my way is, for some reason, comforting... Work = money. Money = the ability to get things that I want and need. Which leads me to the following.

Having nothing to do means that I fill my time with nothing worth while. I have spent the past week waking up at noon or later, getting something to eat, watching horror movies, and drinking. Four horror movies a day, and just as many drinks. I'm pretty sure that is not a good thing by any trustworthy counsel. And if idle hands are the devil's playground, then idle minds are the... um... devil's.... sorry, what was I saying? Ooooh, I should rent Idle Hands tomorrow. I love that movie. Oh, and someone remind me I need to buy soap. "We were walking down this long tunnel, and there was this bright light at the end, and were like, "Screw that... that's too far."." Ha, Brilliant.

Granted, there are plenty of valuable things I could be doing... like cleaning my room, or fixing my book shelf so I can finally store all of my books in one place without worrying about them all falling on the dresser in my closet which acts as my own personal bar... But hey, I mowed the lawn and did laundry yesterday, all that work would wear anybody out. Besides, if I'm not getting paid for it, what else is supposed to spur me to action?... surely not being a grown up and understanding that certain things need to be done regardless of what little pleasure we find in them. That's preposterous. Now, if you'll excuse me, there are a couple glasses of Pepsi and Dewar's in me yearning to break free.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Maximum Lifetime Awkwardness Reached.

Any awkwardness henceforth is in excess.

Today, for lunch.... I went to Hooter's with my dad and my uncle. Even if you don't know me, or my dad, or my uncle, I'm sure we can all agree that that's pretty awkward. If you've read the blog post here (or scroll down the page to "My dad, the Creeposaurus"), you will have some understanding of why this is particularly awkward... then mix in the fact that I am a big proponent of modesty (I don't ever want to see any woman in clothes that small unless she is my wife, and we are alone), and throw in my uncle (who is another set of stories, and a couple hundred gallons of creepy all on his own) and you will understand that this was a big pot of awkward soup waiting to boil over.

First off... why the hell have I been to Hooter's twice? And why has it been with family both times?.... and why did we go there today for lunch? This is all beside the point.

We got seated at the table nearest the aisle that the waitresses take to get to just about every other table in the place, and my dad and uncle (in my head, I call them Creep 1 and Creep 2)take the seats facing the door, perhaps so that none of their many enemies can sneak up on them. This gives them a nearly unobstructed view of all of the waitresses. I took the other side, which gave me an unobstructed view of women's college baseball on all of the tv's. I don't care about sports... but it was still better than looking at the waitresses, or being fully present in the moment. Fortunately, our waitress did not sit down next to me, touch me, or shove her boobs in my face while we were ordering, like the last time I went to Hooter's.

Creep 1 and Creep 2 carried on a conversation, I think... which is the only reason I'm glad my uncle was there. Had he not been, I would have been forced to pretend I was listening... but the whole time, even out of the corner of my eyes (which were fixed to the tv screens so fully that I occasionally had to grope around my plate to find a french fry to stuff in my face so that joining the conversation would not be an option) I could see them pretending they weren't trying to stare through cotton and polyester.

To help paint the picture in your head (so that I'm not alone here)... if you know my sisters dogs, and have been to our house... you will know what their little faces look like, pressed up against the glass of the Florida room door, their little eyes darting about watching all of the things that are going on in the family room/dining room/kitchen... wishing terribly that they could be inside, and be part of the action, and that someone would let them in and give them attention... but as soon as anyone looks at them, they duck down or scamper away, pretending that they weren't looking in the first place. This is exactly what my dad and uncle looked like sitting across the table from me... except my sisters dogs are way cuter, and Delilah's hair really is as yellow as she pretends it is.

Still, as awkward as this was (and really, you have to know all three of us to fully fathom the depths of this awkwardness), I suppose I can be glad that my dad decided that, for once, he was not going to hit on girls for me.

Yeah. He does that.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Best. Gifts. Ever. ?

I recently had a birthday, as people do, and got a lot of great gifts from my loved ones... perhaps the most fantastic, and certainly the most pertinent to this blog, were the bevvy of bacon themed gifts I got from my aunt (and would have gotten from my older brother, had his bottles of home made bacon vodka not exploded before he could give them to me). Sadly, none of these gifts were "Bacon: A love story", but I suppose I will have to buy that for myself. What I did get was the following:

1 jar of Bacon Salt
2 jars of Baconnaise
1 tube of Bacon lip balm
1 case of Bacon dental floss
1 tin of Bacon jelly beans
1 tin of Bacon mints
2 tins of bacon tooth-picks
1 Bacon scented air freshener
1 figurine (and prayer card) of St. Anthony, patron saint of bacon (who knew?)
1 "Seduced by Bacon" cook book.
1 box of Strawberry flavored Bacon gummi's.

All this to say that I have just learned that not all things that are bacon flavored actually taste like bacon. Math formula: Bacon Flavored < Made with real Bacon. Also, Made with real Bacon > Kevin Bacon.

So, have you ever given or received any Bacon themed gifts? I suggest that it's high time you start.

I guess my aunt didn't get the memo that Bake and Bacon fest starts next year.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Be Still My Heart

Sadly, I have no pictures to accompany this, but I thought it worth recording anyway. This week, while staying with my best friend, Derek, in Ventura, I was party to a wonder of meat mixtures. It goes like this:

Pepperjack Cheese
Bacon (four strips)
Hamburger patty (covered in Red Robbin seasoning)
Pepperjack Cheese
Bratwurst patty
Pepperjack Cheese

That, right there, is.... wonderful. It was enough burger that I don't think I could eat another one for at least a month.

*Edit: I forgot (and how could I? I am ashamed) that the whole thing was topped with a fried egg... well, it was topped with half of a bun, but just under that was a fried egg.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Dearest Lauren

I've been in lyric mode since watching Once this week. Great music, that... not much of a movie though. Anyway, I'm terrible at writing music, but I'm not (in my own opinion) bad at writing words... so, based on the true story of my own most recent "romantic" entanglement, I decided to write the following. If anyone out there is any good at writing music, I welcome your attempts at completing this venture.

Dearest Lauren

I remember how things went when we first spoke,
And how you laughed at all my awkward jokes.
How you seemed so happy just to talk to me,
But all I thought was how I had to pee.

I felt I might burst as we talked for hours,
Or, as I responded while you talked for hours.
I do not remember anything you said,
I only had one thought within my head.

How the hell do I get out of here?
I need to be somewhere else.
I just need to make it clear
I’d rather be by my self.

After I gave you the number to my phone,
I sadly found you’d not leave me alone.
I’d see your call, my cell phone in my hand,
And later say I’d been playing Rockband.

We dated for too long, and, to be true,
My every thought was how to part with you.
You said you loved me every time we kissed,
And all the while, my only thought was this:

How the hell do I get out of here?
I need to be somewhere else.
I just need to make it clear
I’d rather be by my self.

I broke your heart inside the Oakridge mall,
It had to be in public after all.
To try to keep the scene from getting loud,
I had to make sure we were in a crowd.

You begged, and said that we could work things out.
I said there’s nothing left to talk about.
No chance for us, not at another juncture,
Then we walked to the same parking structure.

How the hell do I get out of here?
I need to be somewhere else.
I just need to make it clear
I’d rather be by my self.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Bacon: Teacher, mother, secret lover.

On my seemingly never ending quest to kill myself with bacon, there have been many great moments. One of which is cataloged on this very blog. There have also been a few failures (such as honey teriyaki marinated bacon, which basically just stuck to the pan. It needs never be spoken of, save to prevent others from attempting such a sticky disaster). When I caught wind of this masterpiece, my clogged heart skipped a beat. Could it be?.... could someone have joined my two great loves into one glorious beverage?

I implore the teeming millions of you who read my blog to go here (sorry, seems it won't post as a link. gotta copy/paste) and submit your requests for it to be sold in california. If you don't care to have it in your area, use mine (95032) so that I might try it, and let you all know what I think. Also, I welcome any bacon based culinary suggestions. Submit them as a comment. If I like your idea, I might invite you to my 28th birthday "Bake and Bacon" party.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

My dad, the Creeposaurus.

I have hesitated to post this story, because I thought the girl in question might read it, and reading it might make things very awkward... and though it may not seem like it, awkward situations are things I generally try to avoid. I realize that may not actually be a problem though, since nobody reads this anyway.

So here's the story: My dad took me and one of his friends to lunch a week or so ago, since we were all working together. As we were driving to lunch, my dad, always the entertainer, started telling his friend about what our family had done for Easter... and this is where our scene begins.

My dad: So we all went out to dinner, Jacob brought his.... what is she to you?
Me: ......
My Dad: What is Heather to you?
Me: My friend.
My dad: Moving toward more?
Me: .....
My dad: Anyway, she is just a striking gal... with these beautiful eyes that you could get lost staring at.
My dads friend: Could we call her your friend with benefits?... or your sex puppet?
Me (wondering how safe it is to jump out of a truck moving 35 mph): No. No we could not call her that.

Thanks... Now I won't be able to look at her eyes without thinking of my skeevy creepster father, or his pervert friend.

Here, get lost looking at these Photobucket

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Dexter on dating

I am not an emotional person... and that is mostly by choice. I see very little value in emotion. Well... I understand that some emotions are fun, but I don't see the value in allowing emotion to control us, instead of assessing situations logically, and then choosing which emotion, if any, is suitable. If you know me, you already know this about me. I'm not a sociopath or anything, I just see no need for emotion. I rarely use the word "feel" (except when talking about physical sensations), and instead opt for "think" or "know"... because, really, I don't care how you feel... and don't expect you to care how I feel. I am not interested in feelings. I am interested in facts.

Knowing this might help you understand how I can have had two girlfriends in my life, and not really been romantically interested in either of them (Lauren, Chelsea... if you're reading this, I guess this is probably not the way you would like to learn this)(also, how the crap did you find my blog? Are you stalking me?). Surely I can't be the only person to have dated people because he could tell they were interested in him, and because normal people have girlfriends. People who are not cyborgs, that is.

In my life, however, there has been one girl (woman now) that did cause me to feel, and I never really dated her. Maybe she was partially to blame for the lack of interest in either of my girlfriends. I hadn't, until recently, seen her in years... but I still thought about her in contrast to any other girl I met, and none of them were as exciting to me. What was it about her that got me so bewitched?... what is it about her that is doing it again? Granted, she's beautiful, but is there more to it? Is it that she is a mystery to me?... that I can't tell whether she's interested in me? I need to be careful. I shouldn't move too quickly, only to find out that we're not as in sync as I want to think we are. I need to be sure.

What about you?... have you dated someone you weren't interested in from the start? Have you ever NOT dated someone because you were unsure?

Sunday, April 12, 2009

If this isn't Heaven, it's a heart-beat closer to it.

I believe that what I have created is, quite frankly, Heaven, in food form. At the very least, eating it will bring you closer to Heaven, if that is where you will end up. If you are a heathen, perhaps it's best if you stay away from the Steak cordon Bacon. It is, simply stated, steak, with cheese and bacon inside, cooked with more bacon... but the process of cooking makes it so much more than that. Inspired by the great heart stopping treats I read about on

You start with honey and teriyaki sauce. Photobucket
Mix in a pot on low heat, until they are fully combined.

Then, add steak. Photobucket

Marinate the steak for a full 24 hours for best result. Photobucket

When the steak is ready, cook a few pieces of bacon. While the bacon is cooking, take a knife and cut a small opening in the side of the steak. Move the knife around inside, creating a cavity which you will fill with chunks of the bacon you are cooking, and sharp cheddar cheese. (Note: Even if you prefer mild cheddar, or some other kind of cheese, use sharp cheddar, as the contrast between the cheese and the sweet flavor of the steak is what helps to make this meal magnificent)

When the steak is filled, cook it however you like it. I like it medium rare, but you don't really care how I like it, do you? It's best to use a thermometer, instead of just looking at how pink the inside is, because the teriyaki marinade will have darkened the meat.

While the steak is cooking, create a mat out of bacon. Photobucket It does not need to be tight, or attractive, since it will be dismantled later.

Wrap the bacon weave around the steak Photobucket

Cook until the bacon is almost crispy. Dismantle. Finish cooking the bacon.

Enjoy with a beer of your choosing.

If you're not in Heaven eating this meal, I'll either see you there soon, or I don't want to know you.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Rob Zombie's Halloween

I've never been a big fan of the Halloween movies, but I think this is the best acting William Shatner has ever done.

Also, watch this.

Friday, April 3, 2009


Though this will likely not be the general theme of this blog, I want to start of with something I think is important... a good number of my female friends have trouble finding men that fit their standards, and get tired of waiting for the right guy. I've seen too many girls go for idiots just because that idiot showed some interest.

I've also seen too many guys find a woman who is worth all the trouble in the world, but because they lack confidence, or determination, or... something, they don't act. I have been one of these guys.

So I did one of the only things I know how to do moderately well. I wrote. This trilogy of poems (if you want to save yourself some time) boils down to this: Women, you are valuable. Don't settle for anyone who doesn't treat you like you're beautiful. Men, man up. Let the woman you love know she's worth something to you, and treat her accordingly.

To Those Who Wait
There's a story of a Princess, fairer than she thought to see,
who, when finding not a suitor, gave her heart too willingly.
Here the Princess dropped her standards so at least one Prince would pass,
thus each Prince she found was lacking, like one slipper made of glass.

And the Princess, tired of waiting for the man that she could love
had forgot that solemn promise, "One fine day your Prince will come".
So the first to pass her tower was the first to whom she ran,
but to treat her as a Princess never was the Jesters plan.

Swears't I now to you, oh Princess, though you've seen it not before,
when the right Prince comes to find you, you'll be found worth fighting for.
Though, dear Princess, it may seem like love brings not to you but pain,
the valor of the Prince will surely match the value of the Dame.

Tragic Prince
There once was a beautiful Princess
who lived in the kingdoms of old.
Her eyes were as clear as the ocean,
her hair was as brilliant as gold.

Her beauty was rivaled by no one,
no maiden from far or from wide.
Though many knights jousted to win her,
too often their ambition died.

I was a Prince who could see her
as anything more than a prize.
I knew I should try to romance her,
but in action I wasn't so wise.

Well, the Princess ascended her tower,
and it was from there that she reigned.
The dragon and moat could protect her,
but her beauty could not be contained.

I was as dashing and charming
as any Prince ever could be,
but dashing's for naught without daring,
and valor just isn't in me.

So I watched as a man climbed her tower,
took her far from my tortured sight,
and I pray they happ'ly for ever.
I pray that she's found her white knight.

In Time
It was in the tower window I saw her,
that Princess for whom all men sought.
Though the odds were not near in my favor,
it was for her favor I fought.

Though many knights jousted to win her,
I thirsted to win her applause,
I'd vanquish her foes the world over
with only her love as my cause.

The tourney had only just ended,
victorious, I called to her tower,
"Dear Princess, I'd fight on for ages
to see you for only an hour."

Quickly, smoke billowed out of the mountains,
and a monster rose up to the skies.
It circled her tower and stopped me
with the fire of Hell in its eyes.

I cried, "Demon! How dare you delay me?"
as it screamed forth a fiery blast.
I yelled, "It is now that we end this!
You have chosen this day as your last!"

Its heart felt my sword in a moment,
and I climbed to the one I adore,
and I swore I would love and protect her
for now, and forever, and more.

They say that home is where the heart is. I don't really have a heart, so it seems that I don't have a home. When that day comes that I finally find the woman who has my heart, I'll know I'm home, and I will never leave.